


your beauty hides the pain

by WordsAblaze



Series: Witcher Fics [6]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: (why is that not already a tag?), Angst with a Happy Ending, Curses, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Protective Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Timeline What Timeline, Triss Merigold Ships It, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Needs a Hug, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg is So Done, it being yennskier, no beta we die like jaskier doesn't, they do be reluctantly bonding tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24322339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAblaze/pseuds/WordsAblaze
Summary: Lost on the mountain, Jaskier accidentally angers a mage who decides to curse Yennefer with his company and for once, it might actually be a blessing in disguise...
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Triss Merigold & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Witcher Fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726360
Comments: 98
Kudos: 281





	1. the fairer sex, they often call it

**Author's Note:**

> it's that trope where two characters are magically stuck with each other, but it's jaskier and yennefer instead of jaskier and geralt - i have both angst and fluff planned so let's see where this goes...  
> title from ultraviolet by au/ra btw :p

Jaskier is lost.

Again.

He’d thought he was getting somewhere with the mountain but he decides he was wrong when he finds himself staring at the same flowering bush for the _sixth_ time in a row.

And this time there’s no way he can pretend it’s a different bush because he’d started counting the number of flowers the fourth time and it’s still the exact same. 

“Stupid dwarves,” Jaskier mutters to himself as he picks one of the flowers on the bush, tucking it behind his ear.

He usually hates picking flowers but this one looked a little lopsided anyway and would probably have died soon so he doesn’t see the harm in trying to keep himself from breaking down by wearing it for a little while.

Anyway, the small flower is beautiful and had likely been wholly unappreciated so really, Jaskier is doing it no less than a favour.

He smiles despite himself.

Only to promptly jump out of his skin when someone coughs accusingly behind him.

Turning fast enough to make himself dizzy, he ends up face to face with a very angry-looking woman.

Although he’s sure there’s more to her because she seems to be glowing and there’s an uneasy feeling settling in Jaskier’s gut, a feeling that usually arrives just before he gets himself into trouble.

“Oh, hello there. Sorry, I didn’t see you on the quest before…?”

She ignores him, stepping forwards, her gaze travelling to his ear. “Thief.”

Jaskier places his lute on the ground and raises his hands in surrender. If she is about to attack him, he’d rather not have her break his bones and his lute.

“I’m sorry, what? I don’t know you and I _really_ don’t think I’ve stolen from you… have I? I’m truly sorry if I have, you know what us troublesome bards can be like! Wait no, we’re not troublesome, we’re actually quite lov-”

“Enough. You stole my flower,” she hisses at him.

Jaskier blinks.

Sighing, he pulls his latest accessory out of his hair and offers it to her. “I didn’t know it belonged to anyone, I swear. I just- I was... I’m lost.” 

Between Geralt wanting nothing to do with his trouble and the dwarves refusing to travel with him, he means that literally and otherwise.

“It smells funny,” the woman, who Jaskier assumes is a mage, comments.

“I beg your pardon?” 

He’s pretty sure he’s not the one who smells bad and the poor flower can’t smell like anything but itself so he’s not sure what she’s getting at.

The woman, who is most _definitely_ a mage judging by the way she glares hard enough at the flower to make it wither and crumble into ash, steps forward again.

Jaskier takes a moment to feel personally offended on behalf of his very temporary botanical companion before focusing on not losing his footing in his haste to scramble backwards.

“Hey, hey, look, I’m really sorry about the flower! It’s just I’ve circled the- your beautiful bush half a dozen times and-” 

“You smell like her,” the mage interrupts, having seemingly ignored him.

Jaskier sighs at the familiar phrase. “Like whom? You’ll have to be a little more specific.”

“Vengerberg.”

Frowning, Jaskier shakes his head. “Yennefer? No, no, I can assure you I most certainly do _not_! If anything, Geralt would be the one who-”

He trails off as he thinks of the two of them, thinks of how they’d both left to spend the night in her tent, thinks of how he’d woken up to find they’d had all the fun they’d wanted without him.

The mage smirks and before he can blink, she’s grabbed the front of his chemise and is staring into his eyes as if searching for his soul.

He wobbles but finds he can’t move his arms to try and remove her hand so he just waits until she lets go and throws him aside so forcefully that he topples right into her precious bush. 

Seems rather counter-intuitive if you ask him, but she hadn’t so, just this once, he keeps his opinion to himself.

“Ow!” he exclaims instead as he feels countless thorns tear into his skin despite seeing no roses.

Oh, how he wishes he hadn’t taken his doublet off after circling the bush the fifth time because the sun had started to get a little too intense. On the bright side, at least it won’t be ruined like countless others.

“You’ve been in her presence,” the mage says, apparently not caring about her flowers anymore.

Jaskier sits up, wincing as more thorns dig into his skin with a sharpness that seems entirely unnatural. And probably is.

“Well, it’s hardly my fault if she attaches herself to my- to Geralt, is it?”

“Attaches herself?”

Jaskier has a horrible feeling that he’s said the wrong thing. 

The mage waves a hand and Jaskier feels himself be thrown out of the bush to where his lute is lying. Groaning as quietly as possible when the new scratches on his skin burn upon hitting the ground, he quickly pulls his doublet out from where he’d stowed it inside the lute case and pulls it on.

It’s ridiculous, he knows, but he feels safer wearing it.

The doublet can’t protect him from a mage and it definitely can’t make what he’s sure will be magnificent bruises in an hour or so hurt any less but he still feels safer with it on for some reason.

Plus, he looks better in the red of clothing than the red of thorn scratches.

“Vengerberg was happy to steal from me time and time again but maybe being attached to another thief will teach her not to take from me again,” the mage tells Jaskier as if he has any idea what she’s on about.

For the record, he does _not_.

And he’s not even a thief, he’s a bard for the love of-

He doesn’t get time to voice his protest or ask her what she means because she swiftly conjures a portal and with the flick of her wrist, throws him through it.

At least he has the mind to clutch his lute tightly so it goes with him.

Nausea builds and curls and _twists_ in his stomach to the point of agony until he hits the ground with a dull thud, his whole body aching and his eyes squeezed shut so he can try to pretend this is just a nightmare.

“What the hell?” 

Key word: _try_.

He groans.

As soon as the world stops spinning and his skin stops screaming, he blinks his eyes open and grins up at the angry but curious purple gaze directed at him.

“Hello again, darling Yennefer.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's not very exciting yet but i did have to set it up, yaknow? should get more interesting in the next chapter if you want to stick around ;)
> 
> thanks for reading! toss a kudos / comment? x


	2. but her love's as unfair as a crook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> got a little sidetracked by my other wips but hi again !! thank you for your interest in this fic, it really makes me happy x

Yennefer is not impressed.

In fact, she’s _so_ not impressed that she simply glares down at him before twirling her hands above him as purple smoke fills the room.

Jaskier only has half a moment to breathe before he’s being shoved through his second portal of the day, his grip on his lute tightening to the point of being painful.

He lands back on the mountain, right in front of the flowering bush. Groaning, he ignores his nausea and he turns around, wanting nothing more to do with flowers and portals and weird mages out for confusing revenge.

“Well, that was certainly-”

He cuts himself off with a choked gasp as something sharp twists and _tangles_ inside his chest again, this time getting increasingly more uncomfortable rather than fading away.

Biting his lip, he tries to sit up.

Only to vaguely hear himself start _screaming_ as he hits the ground again, _agony_ flowing through his blood, unable to feel anything except the awful sensation of someone stabbing fine needles into every inch of his skin simultaneously. 

He can feel himself all but _writhing_ on the floor but he can’t feel the floor, he just knows that he needs it to stop because it’s too much and he needs to get out of his body because he feels like he’s _dying_ and he can’t remember how to breathe so he really, _really_ needs to focus right now but he can’t and it _burns_ , it burns so, _so_ badly, and he can’t breathe and-

There’s a hand yanking him backwards.

And the pain abruptly stops.

Jaskier sobs in relief, curling up and wrapping his arms around his lute as he gasps in air like he’s never had the chance to do so before.

The pain fades far more quickly than anything he’s had the misfortune of experiencing in the past and before he knows it, he’s staring up at Yennefer again, but this time she looks a lot angrier and not even _slightly_ amused.

“What did you do?” she demands, and Jaskier dimly notices the tremble to her voice.

He shrugs, still barely able to think properly, slowly pulling himself upright and frowning at her. “I have no idea what you mean. And not that I’m complaining but why did you bring me back here?”

She frowns at him. “Are you crying?”

At that, Jaskier scowls. He brushes the tears from his face and attempts to glare at her. “Don’t they teach you it’s rude to point that kind of thing out?”

But she ignores him, closing her eyes and starting to mutter something. Jaskier just watches her, finding the nearest wall and propping himself up on it. He doesn’t feel his eyes closing but they fly open when a burning sensation flares inside of him. 

“Not again,” he moans, clenching his jaw to try and ready himself for the pain if it returns. But almost as soon as the words leave his mouth, the burning stops.

“Sorry.”

It takes him a moment to realise that the apology had come from _Yennefer_.

He looks up at her, startled. “You caused that?”

She simply shakes her head and falls into the nearest chair with a wince, one arm resting against her side as if she’s been hurt. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to put this particular two and two together. 

“You felt it too? And that’s why you brought me back?” Jaskier asks, only now realising the potential severity of the mage on the mountain’s words. 

Yennefer sighs and walks over to where he is, crouching in front of him. Without warning, she places her hands on either side of his head and closes her eyes.

Before he ask protest, he’s _frozen_ , watching himself be thrown through a portal, watching himself be sprinkled with ashes that used to be a flower, watching himself pick said flower, watching himself remove his doublet in frustration, walking himself reluctantly turn away from-

“ _Stop it!_ ” Jaskier yells, pushing Yennefer’s hands away.

“I needed to know-” Yennefer starts.

But Jaskier shakes his head. “No! No, you don’t get to just comb through my head like every other entitled mage out there. If you want to know something, you can bloody well ask me or you can keep your ridiculous pride and never find out!”

She had found out though, and even Jaskier can’t deny the painful truth of them being stuck with one another until the other mage reverses her spell or her curse or whatever it is she’d done.

Yennefer nods. “I’m sorry.”

Once Jaskier’s sure he’s not about to feel his heart breaking all over again from having to relive the day, he sighs softly, offering Yennefer a small smirk. “That’s twice you’ve apologised in one day. Who knew a little flower was all it would take for the mighty Yennefer to admit she can be _nice_?”

She scoffs. “The last person to call me ‘nice’ never called anyone anything ever again.”

“You don’t fool me, witch,” Jaskier replies, but he’s too tired for anything else and simply collapses against the wall again, pulling his lute close and focusing only on breathing.

He finds himself wondering if _this_ is why Geralt had always hated Destiny so much - he has to admit that being forced to stay by someone’s side isn’t exactly as much fun as he makes it out to be in his ballads.

The worst part is that he can even understand what Geralt meant about him being the cause of his troubles because it’s evident that his own meddling just _begs_ for misfortune to seek him out. Geralt had just experienced that misfortune by association, and now Yennefer...

“Of all the people to be stuck with…” Yennefer mutters as she stands again, clearly having formed a plan she has no intention of sharing with him. 

Jaskier lets his eyes close once more as he tries not to physically flinch at her words. “I’ll just right stay here then, since it seems I can’t go _anywhere_ without angering someone or the other.” 

He hears Yennefer’s footsteps pause and wonders if he’s said something wrong, but she doesn’t say anything to him, continuing to move around after a brief pause, and he forgets about it, letting himself drift into a clumsy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a chaotic chapter but better i just post rather than deliberate for a week, yaknow? :p
> 
> thanks for reading !! toss a kudos/comment? x


	3. it steals all my reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not quite canon (when am i ever?) but i'm cycling through witcher wips and don't always have time to research properly so please excuse plot inaccuracies :p

Jaskier wakes to someone pulling him upright. 

He blindly reaches for and pulls his lute case to his chest, letting himself be none too gently guided until the walls of what he hadn’t noticed is a tent are replaced by trees.

“What…?” he starts, only to trail off as said tent bursts into flames.

“You just cost me a room, bard,” Yennefer mutters, irritation dripping from her words. 

Jaskier blinks, staring at her in confusion. “How  _ exactly  _ am I in any way responsible for your tent room thing deciding to set itself on fire?” 

Yennefer shakes her head impatiently as she brushes practically non-existent dust from her dress. “You were covered in unnatural ash when you got here, it was a delayed spell.” 

“Not my fault you didn’t sense it,” he scoffs, slinging his lute over a shoulder. 

She glares at him. “I was a little distracted by your idiot self getting us cursed and bound together.” 

Shifting awkwardly under her pointed gaze, Jaskier shrugs and offers her his best sheepish smile. “I did try telling her you and Geralt were better suited but she pretty much ignored everything I-”

“You did  _ what? _ ” Yennefer interrupts, her glare turning into some of the most deadly glowering Jaskier has ever had the misfortune of experiencing as she steps towards him.

He steps back automatically.

“You saw my memories, didn’t you? She said she could  _ smell _ you or something and I tried to tell her that it was impossible because I’d been wandering around a mountain all day and the only person who could even  _ possibly  _ smell like you is Geralt because the two of you shared a tent before the whole-  _ woah _ !”

The ground disappears beneath his feet as he’s thrown back into the air and all he can think to do is twist so that he lands on his side rather than his lute case.

Which he does.

Only to gasp as pain spikes up in his very bones again, every inch of his skin feeling as though it’s been set ablaze much like Yennefer’s tent. 

Cursing internally, he picks himself up and stumbles back to Yennefer, who somehow looks elegant even as she sits slumped on the slightly dead grass with a pained grimace on her face.

“Maybe don’t do that again,” Jaskier suggests breathlessly. 

Yennefer rolls her eyes but nods. “It seems we can’t be very far apart, bard.” 

“How romantic,” he mutters, tightening his grips on the strap across his shoulder as he exhales softly, the pain melting away again. 

They don’t move for a while, not until the tent is nothing but ashes. 

Once the smoke clears as if there’d never been a fire in the first place, Jaskier turns to Yennefer. “So, where are you headed?”

She rises to her feet and frowns down at him. “Aren’t you meant to be trailing your precious white wolf like a lost puppy?” 

Jaskier flinches. “He’s not  _ mine _ . He never was and he never will be.”

And he’d been stupid to think otherwise because look where it had gotten him: stuck with the mage who’d stolen Geralt’s heart within the blink of an eye. He wants to pretend he’s not bitter about it but…

“I take it you had an argument then?” Yennefer asks, having the audacity to sound  _ bored _ as he struggles with his recent heartbreak. 

But he couldn’t care less about being mocked. “Not so much an argument as a swift farewell,” he ends up saying, almost wincing at himself for sounding so forlorn. 

Yennefer gives him a strange look that he can’t quite decipher, something like disbelief and pity and anger rolled into one. But she says nothing so he doesn’t think much of it, pushing himself to his feet again and replacing his frown with a grin. 

“So, once again, where does the merciless Yennefer plan to target next?”

He only grins wider when sparks crackle at her fingertips before she sighs loudly. “I should probably go and explain that moron’s death.”

They both know which moron she’s referring to and although Jaskier doesn’t find him particularly worthy of being honoured or anything, he can’t really argue with her.  In fact, he doesn’t think to question anything about their plan until they arrive in a town he only dimly recognises as one he was kicked out of for sleeping with both of the blacksmith’s children. 

_ (Not that he knew they were both his but that probably wouldn't have changed his mind anyway.) _

“Uh, Yennefer? You should probably know that-”

“If you’re about to tell me there’s someone here who wants to kill you, I don’t care,” she interjects, starting to walk faster.

Jaskier just sighs and ducks his head, wishing for one that he wasn’t wearing something so beautifully made. 

But they make it to the Lord’s house with no vengeful interruptions, where the central guard at the door raises a judgemental eye at them. “Lady Yennefer, and…?”

Yennefer sighs. “He’s with me, unfortunately. Won’t you let us in?”

Against every one of his urges, Jaskier stays silent and only smiles brightly at the guards once they’re let inside, starting to follow Yennefer only to be roughly yanked backwards.

“I know who you are and if you weren’t with her, I’d have gutted you on the spot,” one of the guards hisses under his breath, and Jaskier isn’t sure if he should be more concerned about that or the prickling sensation of starting to be too far from Yennefer. 

“I’m terribly sorry if I remind you of anyone but I really haven’t had the pleasure of visiting your lovely town before. And I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding so-”

“Unhand him or lose the hand,” Yennefer says coolly from where she’s now glaring back at them, her voice somehow crystal clear despite the distance.

The guard spits at him before reluctantly letting go, turning back his post. 

Jaskier suppresses his flinch as he wipes it away and exhales softly, speeding up so he can fall into stride with Yennefer again. “I thought you said you didn’t care?” he teases.

She hums. “I don’t. I just don’t care for you getting me into any more trouble, it’s bad enough that you’re here at all.” 

_ Ouch. _

He wants to think she only means to match his teasing but he can’t help that her comments always know how to sting in the worst way and all he can do is try his best not to let it show lest she use it against him in future. 

“It’s not like _ I _ chose to accompany an arrogant coward from a terrible town up a mountain,” he snaps back. 

They don’t get to say anything else because a Lord greets them at the door, welcoming Yennefer and sighing at the sight of Jaskier instead of his son. “I take it the quest wasn’t successful?”

“No, it wasn’t. I will, however, be taking payment regardless.”

The Lord nods quickly. “Of course, as promised. It’s just that the payment you requested has yet to be delivered. If you could stay just one night…?”

Jaskier tenses but Yennefer nods slowly. “One night, and then I take your blood instead. Noble blood does  _ so  _ well in potions.”

Never has anyone so quickly offered up their best spare rooms.

Said rooms happen to be across an opulently wide hallway.

“Yenn-”

“Not a word. Endure for two minutes, bard,” Yennefer mutters, letting the servants guide them to the two separate rooms. 

Jaskier digs his nails into his palms as he thanks the girl whose curiosity regarding his lute he’d otherwise have  _ loved _ to feed, waiting until she’s retreated fully before sliding down the door with a quiet gasp. 

True to her word, Yennefer yanks him through a portal after just under two minutes. 

Gagging at the wave of nausea that hits him, he waits until the room isn’t spinning before offering up a weak smile of gratitude.

“I’ll portal you back when we’re invited for dinner,” she tells him, settling on the bed.

“Sure. What kind of payment did you demand?”

She smiles mysteriously. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Jaskier shrugs off his lute and leans on the wall, stretching his feet out and trying not to laugh at the absurdity of his life. “Not really, darling, but I’m sure your malicious tale will distract from the after-effects of a portal.” 

“I am not here to be a  _ distraction  _ for the likes of you,” Yennefer all but snarls. 

After that, the two of them lapse into silence until the tension in the room builds to a palpable level at which point Jaskier pulls out his lute and starts idly strumming. 

To his  _ mild _ surprise, Yennefer doesn’t even bat an eye. But then again, she might be magically tuning him out because if she doesn’t care for him, she certainly won’t care for his music, no matter how beautiful it is.

Jaskier sighs at the thought, wondering how he’s meant to play for a receptive audience if he can’t convince Yennefer to enter a tavern. There’s also the small issue of finding an audience that can be receptive without him having to play  _ Toss a Coin  _ and suffer through the memories it brings back.

But those are inevitable concerns for another time, he decides, closing his eyes and absently letting his fingers dance across the strings as they please.

He just hopes they’re  _ both  _ invited to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd say i promise to increase the pace next time so it's more interesting but i can't seem to rush these two...  
>    
> thanks for reading! toss a kudos/comment? xx


	4. commits every treason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe it's july but time seems to be crawling way too fast for me to keep up lately. anyway, here's more of these two because they make life a little more fun <3

Because Jaskier seems to be having the worst luck lately, they’re _not_ both invited.

Yennefer stiffens and sits up with no apparent explanation so Jaskier stops playing immediately, looking at her with an eyebrow raised.

“Someone’s coming. Time for you to leave,” she says, opening a portal as if it were as easy as breathing.

“Thanks,” Jaskier mutters, stepping through and immediately dropping to his knees as a heavy wave of nausea washes over him. 

He hears Yennefer’s voice in the corridor and waits for someone to knock on his door, confused when nobody arrives and the tingling of his skin only increases. 

“Oh, you’re joking,” Jaskier breathes, but clearly Lord whatever hadn’t been. 

He vaguely hears footsteps walking away and briefly, _very_ briefly, the pain fades. But then it’s back just as quickly and only gets worse as Yennefer presumably walks away to accept her dinner invite.

Jaskier bites his lip to stop himself from groaning audibly as his bones slowly start to feel like they’re being stepped on by a horse. It’s possibly one of the most inconvenient curses anyone has inflicted on him and never has he regretted admiring flowers so much. 

“Stupid noble homes,” Jaskier grumbles as he curls his hands into fists.

If only the house wasn’t so large and such an obvious display of wealth, it might not hurt so much to not be given an invite to dinner. 

As it is, he ends up wondering how Yennefer is managing with the pain. 

He tries playing the lute to distract himself but it’s not long before everything hurts enough for him to lose track of his chords and choruses alike. After that, only because he doesn’t want to damage his poor lute by accident, he just clutches said instrument close and starts humming.

Nothing in particular but anything to take his attention away from the pain.

The knock on the door makes him jump.

“Uh, yes?” Jaskier manages, pulling himself to his feet. Really, the fact that his pain doesn’t ease at all should have been a sign that something is wrong.

He doesn’t get any other warning before the door flies open and he’s being tackled to the floor.

“Hey!” Jaskier yells, throwing an arm under his head to stop it from hitting the floor, something he’s managed to make an instinct over time. 

But then there are hands around his neck and the pain that’d been growing under his skin fades in comparison to not being able to breathe. 

He gasps despite the futility of it, his hands scrabbling to pull the other man’s away as he kicks out, hoping to try and dislodge who he dimly recognises as the guard who’d threatened him earlier.

“There's no mage to save you this time, bard,” the guard snarls.

Jaskier can feel his face reddening and, increasingly more desperate, he aims for the guard’s face, scratching almost aimlessly as he feels his thrashing slow down, his lungs _burning_ with the pressure of trying not to pass out.

The guard is almost entirely undeterred and Jaskier is going to die in this stupid town and although he generally doesn’t regret the time he spends with people on principle, he’s close to making an exception just this once. Well, it was technically twice, but still.

Oh, gods, is Yennefer going to be dragging around his _corpse_ until she breaks the curse?

_No, you idiot._

Jaskier’s vision fades even as he feels himself frown.

And then he feels nothing.

Until someone slaps him.

“Ow?” he rasps, coughing hard.

To his shock, it’s Yennefer above him instead of the guard, and if he didn’t know better he’d say she looks _worried_.

“How did you annoy someone so badly within two meetings of meeting him?” Yennefer asks as she moves to be sat on the floor beside him, exasperation laced into her tone.

Jaskier shrugs, coughing again before propping himself up on the wall. “I did _try_ to tell you. You said you didn’t care.”

He’s more than aware that his voice sounds awful, which he sincerely hopes doesn’t last long, but he hopes Yennefer has enough kindness in her not to mention it and save him any extra embarrassment. 

“I don’t, you’re still just Geralt’s puppy to me.”

Jaskier flinches.

Yennefer raises her eyebrows before then clearing her throat and gesturing to the guard, who seems to have been thrown across the room if his broken neck is anything to go by. “Well, at least he won’t be a problem anymore.” 

He figures that’s her way of saying she might care just a little bit. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, still uncomfortable with the way his voice sounds. Even then, he can’t help asking, “How did you know…?”

Yennefer smirks. “You were thinking very loudly.”

Oh, so he hadn’t just imagined someone calling him an idiot. Jaskier’s face flushes as he looks away from her, only for his gaze to land on his lute. His very _cracked_ lute.

“No!” he moves before he can register himself doing so, almost falling into Yennefer as he cradles his lute, his eyes prickling as he notes the pitifully battered wood and the broken strings. If only he hadn’t been holding it.

He doesn’t even care about Yennefer judging him this time. 

“Are you going to weep over that like a small child or are you going to let me fix it?” Yennefer asks, interrupting his plans to do the former.

“I am _not_ a small child. Some of us like to acknowledge our emotions, you know,” Jaskier replies, wincing as his voice cracks multiple times and lifting a hand to try and soothe his bruised neck. 

Yennefer doesn’t say anything, just places her hands above his lute and whispers something, her eyes closed as the wood bends itself back to normal. Jaskier hears glass shattering as Yennefer opens her eyes again but he can’t bring himself to care because his lute now looks just as beautiful as before.

“You’re officially my favourite witch right now,” Jaskier breathes, not even sure she hears him because all she does is pass him the lute and stand up. 

But he wants her to know so he stumbles to his feet too. “Yennefer, I mean it, truly I do. Thank you.”

This time, he knows she hears him because she elbows him. “Yes well, don’t grovel. It’s pathetic.” 

“My lute is not _pathetic_ , she is an absolute _beauty_ and as soon I get some new strings, you’ll eat your words and-”

“I meant _you_ ,” Yennefer interrupts, rolling her eyes.

Jaskier starts to chuckle but that hurts more than he’d expected so he settles for turning it into an awkward grin. “I couldn’t care less what you think about me, darling.”

A part of him knows that might not be _entirely_ true, but he chalks that down to the intense and conflicting emotions he’s had to suffer through in such a short period. Plus the whole someone trying to kill him thing, but that’s just part of his life anyway and rarely affects anything.

“Before you subject me to your awful voice by asking, I’ll just tell you we’re leaving in the morning,” Yennefer says.

He nods quickly, then glances at what was meant to be his bed. “Are we going to…?”

Yennefer practically glares daggers at him so he lifts his hands in the air, fingers splayed. “I wasn’t implying- I just meant, the whole distance thing and...”

Jaskier takes it as a win when her glare softens into mild irritation and she sighs, “You can sleep on the floor.”

He’s not sure why he can feel curiosity in her tone but he doesn’t bother trying to argue, simply grabbing one of two pillows from the bed and settling by the wall furthest from the door.

Yennefer waves said door shut before gracefully flopping onto the bed. How she manages to make it look so _dignified_ is beyond Jaskier but he doesn’t dwell on it because she’s still the same Yennefer who almost killed him in her quest to obtain, quote unquote, everything. 

As he drifts off, he makes a note to compose something about Lord whatever and his inability to feed his guests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? naming the random lords in my fics? more unlikely than you think.
> 
> thanks if you're reading !! toss a kudos / comment? x


	5. of logic with naught but a look

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been like four months but i finally got round to updating - idk if people are still interested but if you are then hi again !!  
> also, jaskier has something of a panic attack later in the chapter, it's not awful but if it may make you uncomfortable then skip from the first 'and so he does' to the second of the same line x

“-ake up already, bard.” 

Jaskier groans, blinking rapidly as he pulls himself upright. 

Yet again, he finds Yennefer glaring down at him. This time though, she doesn’t try to send him through a portal or through the air itself, she just folds her arms. “You take  _ far _ too long waking up.”

“I’ll have you know that I have a reputation for making my leave faster than should be possible, thank you very much,” Jaskier argues, stretching his arms above his head as he straightens up. 

“Escaping the consequences of your lust doesn’t count as being efficient,” Yennefer scoffs, turning away. 

Jaskier makes a face at her before standing up. “And threatening to steal a man’s blood does?”

Yennefer just rolls her eyes. “He’s hardly a man. And I couldn’t care less what happens to his blood, I’m only here for my payment.” 

“Well, what exactly  _ is _ your mysterious payment? Must you act so suspiciously all the time?” Jaskier asks as he brushes off dust that doesn’t exist from his clothes. 

She waves a hand dismissively but she seems almost pleased to be called mysterious, which, when he thinks about it, doesn’t exactly come as a total surprise. 

Either way, she’s presented with a small box when they arrive downstairs and Jaskier is given no time to question the contents of the box or the possibility of breakfast before he’s being pulled through a portal and they’re leaving.

He drops to his knees as soon as they emerge, one hand curled around his stomach. “Gods, now I understand why Geralt prefers to travel on foot. Well, on  _ horse _ if we’re being technical. Which we’re not because you’re walking away…” he trails off, focusing his energy on keeping up rather than rambling. 

“Any chance we’re headed to a town? Or a village? Or anywhere else that serves food?” Jaskier asks.

Yennefer sighs loudly. “Can’t you go just one morning without a meal?”

Jaskier scowls at the back of her head but chooses not to point out the fact that it’s been more like three  _ days _ since he’s had an actual proper meal, instead starting to hum and idly strum his lute as they keep walking.

And keep walking.

And keep walking.

And _keep_ _walking_ until his throat is too dry to produce actual lyrics and he’s beginning to question why they used a portal in the first place. He can’t afford to slow down though, not when that would cause them both pain and Yennefer seems to be on a warpath of an errand.

It’s plenty of hours later, when humming begins to hurt as well, that he slows down and leans - read: collapses - against the nearest tree. “I know you’re a heartless witch and all but really, darling, are you  _ trying _ to kill me?” he manages. 

Yennefer blinks as she turns to face him, as if she’d forgotten he was following her at all. “You look awful.”

Jaskier snorts. “And you look appalling as ever.”

Her lips curve into a small smile before she walks over and places the back of her hand against his forehead. “You’re not ill,” she concludes with a frown.

“Oh, I will be if we keep walking at this pace, I assure you,” Jaskier replies, “for even the sun has begun its descent and I fear I shall sink down into eternal slumber along with it.”

“If only,” Yennefer mutters but then sighs slowly. “I suppose we can rest for a while. I don’t want to be dragging around your corpse after all.”

Taking that as permission, Jaskier slides down to the floor, shifting so he’s more comfortably propped up against the tree and his lute is cradled in his lap. Yennefer raises an eyebrow at him and without breaking their gaze, twirls her hands and brings a tent to life behind her.

Jaskier stares at her. “Would you like me to applaud?” 

Now it’s her turn to snort in amusement. “Do you need me to spell it out for you? Neither will I settle for cold ground unless I have to and nor will I be seen travelling with someone covered in dirt. Now get  _ in _ , bard.”

Wordlessly, he pulls himself to his feet and stumbles inside as gracefully as he can, a small smile spreading on his face when he sees two beds inside. “Why, Yennefer, you might have a heart after all,” he breathes as he falls face-first onto the smaller one. 

“Do you always tire this easily?” She asks, but he’s already halfway asleep and doesn’t care to explain himself.

He still doesn’t care to explain himself when he’s halfway awake and topples off the bed, which promptly promotes him to all the way awake and rather annoyed about it too.

Yennefer appears either not to have slept or to have woken before him, half a smile on her face as he watches him recover and flop back onto the bed. “Are you aware that you snore terribly?”

Jaskier rolls his eyes as he shrugs on the doublet he seems to have wriggled out of at some point and rolls his shoulders. “Are you aware that not everybody is ashamed to be caught breathing while they’re asleep?” 

“Most men are stupid like that,” Yennefer replies and if Jaskier didn’t know better, he might have thought there was something like  _ appreciation _ in the way she raises an eyebrow at him.

He waves a hand dismissively before winking at her. “I think I’ve earned the right to be seen as unique, don’t you?”

She doesn’t answer but that in itself implies she doesn’t outrightly disagree so he lets himself be content with it. While he’s doing that, she unravels the tent and quite literally tucks it into her pocket, continuing to walk with the assumption that he’ll follow - the correct and only logical assumption, so he can’t really fault her for that. 

He trips over something within three seconds because turns out taking a nap in the afternoon means waking up in the evening, in the dark. “Not that I don’t love walking practically blind but what is it that’s so urgent we can’t even afford to rest for the night?”

“Rest for the night? I don’t know how you and Geralt did things, bard, but nightfall doesn’t stop me from getting where I want,” Yennefer replies without even turning around. 

Jaskier resists the urge to flinch and throws his hands up instead, not that she would see either of those actions anyway. “As I’ve been asking, darling, all I care to know is  _ where  _ you want to be. Oh and while we’re on the subject, why we only portalled halfway!”

“Certain areas are strongly warded against portals, idiot. And I don’t need to justify anything else to you so if you’re going to be a stubborn child about it then you can very well shut up,” Yennefer practically hisses at him.

And so he does.

Unwillingly.

He gasps as his throat closes up, something heavy and tight settling around his neck and forcing him into silence.

He’s dimly aware of himself letting out a small whimper but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t even remotely think to care because he wants to say something, anything, but he can’t, he can’t, he  _ can’t _ . 

He can’t and it’s just like last time with the djinn and he can’t breathe but this time there’s nobody to clutch onto, nobody to take him to a healer, nobody to care about him losing his voice, and he can’t do this a second time around, he  _ can’t- _

“Jaskier!” 

What exactly is he meant to do about  _ buttercups _ when he can’t breathe? 

He can’t do anything about them because he can’t do anything _at_ _all_ and he’s never going to be able to pick or look at buttercups or any other flower again and it’s all his fault for being so loud and annoying and he wants to go back and change things but he can’t change who he is and he can’t breathe and he’s going to _die_ and-

His knees slam into the ground when his legs buckle and his hands scrabble to dislodge the pressure around his neck but there’s nothing there and  _ oh gods, _ he must he cursed again because he can’t breathe and he can’t think and he’s going to lose his voice or his life and really those are the same thing and he’s going to die alone and he  _ can’t- _

“Breathe, bard!” 

_ He can’t, he can’t, he can’t. _

He doesn’t remember how to breathe and it’s too late because he thinks his eyes are open but the world is black so he’s probably already gone _blind_ and now he’s going to go _mute_ and it’s too late for him and there’s nothing to be done and-

“I said  _ breathe _ !”

And so he does.

Normally.

He gasps again as he finds he can taste the air around him, hauling in breaths as if he’s never been blessed with the ability to do so before. 

Pressing his head to the ground as he slowly tries to think past the pounding of his heart, he turns his attention to the quiet chatter of birds and the soothing hand on his back and the feel of leaves beneath his knees and wait,  _ what? _

He pulls himself upright, peeling his eyes open and frowning when he sees Yennefer kneeling beside him, one hand still resting between his shoulders and the other balanced on the dirty ground she swore she’d avoid touching. 

She beats him to saying anything with a small, remorseful smile. “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t realise how the chaos here would affect my words.” 

Oh. 

He nods, sitting back on his heels and returning her small smile. “That’s the third time you’ve apologised in just as many days. Are you sure  _ you’re _ not being affected too?” He asks, wincing at the croak of a voice that leaves his lips.

Yennefer rolls her eyes but he can’t find any malice in the act this time. “I meant it, Jaskier, you don’t need me to cause you additional pain when you have plenty of your own.” 

He doesn’t really know how he’s meant to reply to that so he doesn’t, simply taking her hand as she offers to help him to his feet and leaning on her for a moment until his legs decide they’re strong enough to hold him up on their own. 

“Thank you,” he whispers softly. 

She nods, glancing over him once more before continuing to walk and if her pace is purposefully slower this time, well, neither of them are going to point it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry to keep hurting jaskier but there's nothing like bonding through pain ;)  
> also ik i started this fic with the intention of geraskefer but we're switching to yennskier just because it fits better, apologies for the unintentional misinformation <3
> 
> thanks for reading, toss a kudos/comment?


	6. a storm raging on the horizon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry in advance for the mixed signals in this chapter :p

It’s a temple.

Of course it’s a temple.

Jaskier has been dead on his feet for a while by the time they get there but Yennefer’s makes a swift beeline to the small fountain in the centre that, unless he’s gone  _ entirely _ mad, seems to be glowing, not that he has the strength to question it. 

“I won’t be long, bard,” Yennefer tells him.

“If only you would be,” he mutters, half-heartedly smirking at her before she kneels by the fountain, doing who knows what.

He’s too tired to care about what she’s planning so he lets himself settle on the floor once more, leaning his head on his lute as he lets his eyes slip shut. He’s not sure if seriously debating his life choices counts as resting but that’s all he manages before the familiar tug of  _ yennefer, get closer to yennefer, yennefer, you’re too far away from yennefer, yennefer  _ returns to his bones.

Yennefer curses before he can even think about moving and the warmth of somebody sitting next to him fills his mind. “Jaskier?”

Humming, he opens his eyes to see Yennefer’s perfectly raised perfect eyebrow. He chuckles despite everything. “It can be considered impolite to stare, my lady.”

His stomach rumbles before she can reply and he winces, offering her a sheepish grin. She doesn’t seem amused though, and her expression morphs into confusion. “They didn’t bring you up any food yesterday, did they?”

“They were too busy trying to kill me,” Jaskier confirms.

“I thought-” Yennefer cuts herself off with a curse in a language he doesn’t recognise.

Well, at least that explains why she’d assumed he’d be perfectly fine with walking for miles. He can’t exactly blame her for misinformation, can he? Well, he  _ could _ but he likes to think he’s just a little above that kind of behaviour and- ah who is he kidding, he just doesn’t want to hold a grudge against the very sexy but insane witch he’s literally stuck with until further notice.

“You could have told me!” Yennefer grumbles as if this is somehow his fault.

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Yes, darling, I’m sure that would have gone well, especially after you and your chaos nearly stole my voice. You know, the usual method of seduction is taking someone’s  _ breath _ away, not their entire  _ livelihood _ .”

Yennefer looks annoyed for a moment, elbowing him sharply, but then she frowns again. “You could still play the lute.”

“Yes, but nobody pays for a tune without words and so a bard isn’t really a bard if he can’t sing. Or flirt. Both of which require a  _ voice _ .” 

He hadn’t meant to say anything particularly thought-provoking but Yennefer is silent long enough for him to think he’s said something that at least doesn’t just irritate her, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how much he likes that realisation. He does  _ not _ want to go into why he likes it but he’s content in acknowledging it’s nice to exchange more than barbed words here and there.

The sun rises before either of them do.

“Oh, how beautiful,” Jaskier breathes instinctively. 

Yennefer scoffs at first but then follows his gaze to the horizon just past the fountain that seems to be glowing even more than it was before and maybe Jaskier is just imagining it but he thinks he hears her gasp. And he wouldn't blame her for the dawn is truly a thing of beauty that he firmly believes  _ anyone  _ can appreciate.

“I was hoping this place could break the spell,” Yennefer admits eventually. 

Jaskier turns to her, finally taking his eyes off the sunrise. “I take it the spell is more complicated than that?”

With a small chuckle, Yennefer nods. “There’s not a lot I can do when I don’t know why it was cast in the first place.”

Guilt blooms in Jaskier’s chest as if trying to establish its own rotten garden. “I’m sorry. Really, I know the last thing you’d want is to be stuck with  _ me _ but believe me when I tell you I simply cannot imagine her reasoning either.”

Yennefer hums, then elbows him again. “You could be worse, bard.” 

It takes a moment for her words to register but as soon as they do, Jaskier half-turns and grins at her. “What was that, darling? First the apologies and now a  _ compliment?  _ Maybe I’ll have to thank that other witch!”

“I take it back,” Yennefer mutters darkly, standing up and brushing dirt off her dress, “and I’m afraid we’ll have to walk back again until I can portal us anywhere else.” 

Jaskier sighs, reluctantly pulling himself to his feet. It can’t be that bad, he tells himself, and he’s definitely been on more tiring adventures with Geralt so he can totally do this, he can definitely do this without embarrassing himself in front of Yennefer.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Jaskier says, slinging his lute over his shoulders. Yennefer follows the movement with a clearly sceptical hum but says nothing, starting to walk at a thankfully reasonable pace. 

He manages about a minute of silence before clearing his throat. “So, what was in the box?” he asks.

Yennefer sighs loudly. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“And do you often sacrifice things to temples? Well, I suppose that’d be more of an offering actually so, uhm, do you often leave  _ offerings _ of mysterious payments at temples or…?”

Another sigh, but Yennefer slows enough for them to Jaskier to only be half a step behind her. “Do you always ask this many questions? It’s enough to drive anyone mad, bard.” 

And it has, when he thinks about it. Not just almost his entire family and various patrons who it turns out weren’t actually interested in his bardic talents but also his very best friend in the whole world. Maybe he  _ should _ stop asking so many questions about witchers and witches and write more about the sunrise or nobles who won’t mind hearing his ballads for at least long enough for him to stock up on coin.

“How is it that even your thinking is irritatingly loud?” Yennefer asks, interrupting said thinking. 

He huffs. “Well it’s hardly my fault you make a habit of spying into other people’s heads. What, is yours inadequately furnished despite all that power you’re meant to have?”

“I  _ do _ have power,” Yennefer snaps, turning to him with ire in her eyes, “but you wouldn’t know the first thing about being powerful even if you were anything more than just another bard.”

Jaskier scowls at her. “I’m not the one who resorted to chasing dragons with my entitled fake boyfriend because I wanted to be more than just another witch _.” _

For a second, he thinks she’s going to kill him. And then the second passes and she just grits her teeth before continuing to walk, leaving him to groan and scramble to catch up so he doesn’t feel like he’s being ripped apart again. Gods is he getting tired of following around people who would rather he didn’t exist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not v exciting i know, but unfortunately juggling wips is not my forte... hope everyone is having a good december <3
> 
> thanks for reading! toss a kudos/comment? xx


	7. of longing and heartache and lust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first new chapter of this year and these two wrote themselves some actual progress... we love to see it :)

Jaskier has never loved portals so much. 

Well, he’s never loved them at all really, but he finds that he can’t remember how to hate them when Yennefer finally conjures one.

“Gods, I could kiss you for that,” he mutters as he stumbles through. 

“Please  _ don’t _ ,” Yennefer mutters back.

He couldn’t even care less about her disgust because he can see an inn and an inn means food and he’s so hungry he could eat a horse. Or maybe not, he’d rather avoid anything that might offend Roach no matter how desperate he is. 

While he’s busy wondering if horses would take offence to his hunger, Yennefer brushes past him and orders food. Only when he feels like he’s been placed far too close to a fire do his feet remember to move, at which point he follows her to a table, most definitely not unceremoniously collapsing into a seat.

Neither of them say anything else until after they’ve finished eating, mostly because Jaskier is too tired to think of worthy insults on an empty stomach. Yennefer doesn’t seem to have the same problem if the occasional look on her face that implies she’s holding back her words is anything to go by, and yet she doesn’t break the silence. 

Eventually, Jaskier does. “So, uh, what now?”

Yennefer sighs. “Normally, this would be where we part ways.”

“Would it help going back to the mountains?” Jaskier asks, ignoring the fact that he’s meant to be insulted.

A pause, followed by a second sigh. “Loathe as I am to admit it, bard, that’s not a terrible idea,” Yennefer tells him. 

Jaskier grins for all of a minute, after which he frowns. “How far away are we from there?”

“What, are you tired already?” Yennefer scoffs.

Bristling, Jaskier folds his arms. “Just because you have your magic to keep you going doesn’t mean you should force the rest of us to match your probably inhuman pace!” 

She just raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you trying to use magic as an excuse so you don’t have to admit you’re below me?”

“It’s not an  _ excuse _ , witch, it’s the truth. You have an unfair advantage.” Jaskier mutters, almost regretting it when Yennefer scowls at him with a rare clench of her jaw that seems to suggest he’s ventured into a sore spot. 

Her eyes are ablaze with something like injustice when she meets his gaze with a sharp glare. “There is nothing  _ fair _ about having advantages and I have every right to use my magic because I, unlike you with your stolen stories and stolen instruments, have  _ earned _ my advantage, with  _ and _ without chaos.”

She stands and almost literally storms off without waiting for his response, seemingly forgetting about their current predicament. As it is, Jaskier scrambles to catch up with her, managing to grab his lute before he’s all but forced up the stairs. He doesn’t make it to the room she seems to have bought though, because she slams the door shut behind her.

“Really?” Jaskier asks the wood, but guilt has already bloomed inside him and he finds he can’t blame her this time. With a soft exhale, he just settles cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the door and rubbing his aching feet.

It’s not a problem until someone who must work at the inn marches up to him. “If you’re not going to pay for the room, you owe us a performance,” he barks.

Jaskier groans; apparently Yennefer hadn’t exactly  _ bought  _ the room.

“I completely understand but you see-”

“You’re holding a lute,” the man interrupts, eyebrows raised.

Jaskier nods quickly. “Yes, very observant of you but I’m afraid I wouldn’t do a performance justice just yet. It’s been a long few days and so maybe-”

“You can always pay instead,” the man suggests, only it’s more like a warning. 

“I would, I _really_ would, but my- uh, my travelling companion has our coin and I-”

The man cuts him off again, this time by grabbing his arm and yanking him upright. Jaskier yelps, already knowing he’s going to bruise, and attempts to plant his feet. Before he can try to explain, the man tugs harder and, apparently on a strict diet of muscle feed, easily forces him along.

“Wait, wait! Please, I  _ swear _ we’ll pay, just-”

“Save your breath for your singing. We have rules, you know,” the man grumbles. 

They get to the bottom of the stairs before Jaskier finally stops protesting and gives in, taking a moment to steel himself before starting to perform, doing his best not to make it obvious he’s trying to stay as near to the stairs as possible as he circles the room, pointedly ignoring the makeshift stage in the far corner because committing to it would likely make him cry.

Not that his tears aren't tempted to fall anyway because every time he moves around, he's distinctly reminded that he's on some kind of leash that keeps trying to guide him back towards Yennefer. Though _guide_ is perhaps too kind a word for the spikes of burning that flare up on and under every inch of his skin until he makes his way back to nearer the stairs, at which point said spikes fade into less intense but still unmissable aches. 

He manages three songs before his knees quit on him and he has to lean against the wall to avoid crashing into a table and accidentally starting a fight. “I’m going to have to... continue... later in the evening, please,” he manages, breathing heavily.

The innkeeper - not the man from earlier, so Jaskier has  _ no _ idea who that was - nods at him, apparently satisfied, and he wastes no time in dragging himself back up the stairs, flopping to the floor and propping himself up on the door of the room they’ve now paid for again.

Five seconds later, the door opens.

His head hits the floor with a thud as Yennefer curses from somewhere above him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles through the haze of pain. 

“You couldn’t just say no?” she asks, her tone bitter.

He blinks at that, forcing his eyes open and frowning when he sees her visible grimace. “I _tried!_ It wasn’t like I enjoyed it but I thought you… I mean- what about all your magic?” he asks awkwardly. 

Yennefer shrugs, nudging his legs out of the doorway so she can close the door before settling on the bed. “Magic is not an automatic painkiller, bard.”

Wait.

“But you- back at the- and… hang on,  _ what? _ ”

Yennefer snorts. “I see all that studying paid off.” 

Jaskier rolls his eyes, winces when that seems to irritate his headache, and sits up, shuffling along the wall until he’s directly opposite the bed because he really can’t get enough of the pure  _ calm _ washing over him now that the two of them are close together again.

“Why didn't you appear to be in pain before?” he asks carefully. 

Several moments pass before Yennefer looks at him. “I’ve lived with pain longer than you’ve been alive.”

Oh. Well now he just feels like a terrible person for making assumptions. He knows a lot of words but not enough for him to come up with a suitable reply for being ignorant of causing someone agony so he just goes with, “I’m sorry.”

“For being an idiot?”

Jaskier shakes his head. “I’m sorry you’ve had to live with pain,” he clarifies softly. 

A strange look passes over Yennefer’s face and just when he thinks she’s going to just turn her back to him, she nods. “I could almost say the same to you.”

“Almost,” Jaskier echoes, because he’s not exactly sure what she means by that but he’s fairly certain he hasn’t gone through even a fragment of what she seems to have. 

Either way, she accepts his apology and graces him with a smile before finally lying down properly. Any other time, he’d tease her for already needing more beauty sleep by midday but since his own eyes are drooping - being in pain is  _ incredibly _ exhausting, thank you very much - he just offers up a quiet “sleep well” and rests his head on his lute case.

He’s not sure if he only imagines the returning whisper of “likewise”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sure innkeepers were usually more understanding but like *gestures vaguely* plot devices, yknow?


	8. she's always bad news

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not entirely happy with this chapter but i can't figure out what's bothering me so i'll just post it :)

“-ake up, bard!”

Jaskier is hit with the distinct feeling of deja vu as he yawns, all but peeling his eyes open to see Yennefer watching him impatiently. 

“What time is it?” he asks, stretching his arms above his head because his whole body feels stiff for some inconvenient reason. Oh wait, that’s probably because he seems to have ended up using his lute as a bed.

Yennefer shrugs. “Time to go. The sooner we find the source of the curse, the better.” 

“Right,” Jaskier agrees, “but I don’t suppose we could grab some food for the road?”

With a heavy sigh, Yennefer nods. Considering that as permission, Jaskier takes the lead when they head back down, very slightly guilt-tripping and convincing the innkeeper to spare them some food in exchange for a performance on their return.

“Not bad,” Yennefer comments as they leave.

Jaskier bows as best as he can with both his lute and the bag of food slung over his shoulders. “I am widely known for my charm, you know.”

“What a polite way to phrase your so-called talents,” Yennefer drawls, starting to walk even as Jaskier splutters in outrage. 

He follows her down several alleyways he never thought she’d even be willing to  _ look  _ at until they reach a more secluded pathway that’s clearly not used very much if the overgrown shrubbery is anything to go by. Before he can ask why she’s stopped, she starts muttering something, the air vibrating around them before a portal appears.

“Not bad,” Jaskier grins.

The grin falls as they step through and his stomach promptly decides to backflip but he manages not to fall over this time, a little surprised to see Yennefer waiting for him to recover instead of just pressing on. 

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s not as if I can just walk away even if I want to,” Yennefer says, folding her arms. 

Oh yeah. 

Doing his best not to reveal his disappointment, Jaskier clears his throat. “It’s alright, darling, you wouldn't be the first to find my presence irresistible.”

“Ugh, just show me where you found those flowers,” Yennefer snaps. 

“As my lady wishes…” Jaskier grins, finally looking around and swallowing the urge to just flee, almost regretting his plan to so quickly come back to one of the worst moments of his life.

The only problem is, as easy as it had been to accidentally get lost the first time round, it’s a lot harder to  _ purposely _ do so, especially with an unimpressed audience. They walk for far longer than either of them had been expecting, mostly in silence, neither of them wanting to admit their only lead may be a dead end.

“This is pointless,” Jaskier whines when his feet eventually start aching. 

Yennefer hums. “You’re sure you didn’t leave the mountain?”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “How exactly would I have done that, pray tell? The path we came up was destroyed, remember?” 

He’s not entirely sure what emotion flirts across Yennefer’s face at that but he knows better than to assume it’s  _ concern _ or anything like that so he just turns back to the landscape, squinting at the trees as if they’re going to tell him which direction to turn.

“I could jog your memory,” Yennefer offers quietly. 

Jaskier has heard that phrase before but it’s usually followed by an injury of some kind so he shakes his head instinctively, stepping back. “I’m sure I’ll remember unaided, just- just give me a little time.”

“I’m not trying to threaten you, idiot.” Yennefer sighs, blinking slowly and pausing for a second. “I just meant that I could find which path you took through your memories.”

Straightening up, Jaskier shrugs. “Well, alright then. At least you’re asking nicely this time.”

With no other warning, his head starts to sharply ache. Groaning, he squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on breathing as Yennefer mumbles an apology and the ache fizzles just a little until it’s no worse than a mild hangover. 

It’s not exactly pleasant, probably because he  _ really _ doesn’t want to think about Borch or Geralt or the mage with a grudge, but it’s not even nearly the worst thing he’s experienced so he just waits it out, barely noticing the way both he and Yennefer end up on their knees right next to each other. At least, not until Yennefer pulls away with a gasp.

“She’s not from Aretuza,” is the first thing Yennefer says, breathing heavily.

Jaskier blinks at her once he doesn’t feel like he’s about to pass out. “The  _ what _ -uza?”

Yennefer makes yet another unimpressed face at him. “Magical academy, in simple terms.”

“So she’s from a different academy?” Jaskier asks, really not following where she’s going with this.

When he doesn’t get a reply, he just sighs, pushing the lute and bag of food aside before flopping onto the grass and turning his attention to the clouds. “Nothing about this mountain will ever be easy, apparently.”

He doesn’t get a reply to that either but he doesn’t really care, he’s too busy trying to figure out which cloud looks the most like a lute. Which is none of them, actually, because even the  _ sky _ is being a spoilsport and holding back at the moment. He really didn’t think returning to the mountain could be so much worse the second time but apparently the world wants to prove him wrong.

“Please stop thinking so loud,” Yennefer says eventually. 

He jumps. “Stop reading my mind then. It’s hardly my fault you’re not satiated by your own thoughts.”

“My thoughts are fine.”

Jaskier scoffs, sitting up again. He’s not sure what he was intending to say but the words melt from his mouth when he sees Yennefer’s dismal expression anyway. He’d almost forgotten that their situation is just as - if not  _ more _ \- frustrating for her.

“How about some food then?” he asks, already pulling some out of the bag.

There’s a brief tinkling sound and when he looks up, Yennefer is smirking, holding two goblets of wine; Jaskier is not even remotely ashamed to say his mouth fully drops open in surprise. 

"I don't like having a dry mouth," Yennefer says casually, holding out one of the goblets for him to take, which he does. 

The food is fine, bread and cheese and various little fruits, but the wine is nothing short of  _ divine _ and Jaskier barely resists the urge to moan when he tries it.

Yennefer must be able to tell how impressed he is from his facial expression because she laughs, genuinely laughs, and it's such a lovely sound that Jaskier almost wants to write a ballad about it. Only  _ almost  _ though, because he definitely doesn't like her enough to write her a loving ballad no matter what the quality of her wine. 

"It's a shame this place is tainted with memories," Yennefer says after a while. 

Jaskier glances over at her in mild surprise before nodding. "You're right, of course. What a tragedy for such beautiful views to be ruined by a hollow hunt."

Yennefer elbows him, at which point he realises they'd moved so they're near one another again. "Did you just agree with me after only one serving of wine? I'm curious to know what you'll do after a few more."

"In better circumstances, I'd be happy- well, I'd probably be terrified but if it meant drinking more of this divine concoction, I'd be happy to show you."

"Terrified?" Yennefer echoes.

Recognising that her mirth has become mixed with something akin to hesitation, Jaskier sighs. "Although you are _beyond_ worthy of poetry, my dearest witch, it's rather difficult to focus on that with the whole…"

"Geralt?" she suggests. 

"Geralt," Jaskier agrees. 

There's a moment of silence before their goblets refill and Yennefer smirks at him. "To forgetting our witcher."

Jaskier takes a gulp too large to be called sophisticated and sighs. "While we still can."

It's not the best toast in the world but if nothing else, it's at least something they can agree on so for the moment, they both ignore everything that's going wrong and just enjoy the view together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not these two (and me) turning a magical crisis into a suspiciously pleasant picnic--


	9. it's always lose-lose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry it took like a month to update but i filled this chapter with yen's thoughts before realising the fic is jaskier's pov so i had to rewrite it :/

The innkeeper is much friendlier after Jaskier’s second performance.

Of course, that’s probably on account of him managing to get through actual requests this time because Yennefer is in the room and his skin isn’t on fire, but still. 

Unfortunately, that means he ends up singing  _ toss a coin _ twice, after which his mood sours enough for his scowl to match Yennefer’s when he flops into the seat opposite her and leans against the wall so he can rest his feet.

“I was under the impression you enjoyed these ridiculous performances,” Yennefer says and although Jaskier’s eyes are closed, he can practically see her raising a perfect eyebrow.

He shrugs. “Rather difficult with the whole Geralt thing.”

Yennefer hums her agreement, neither of them saying anything more in favour of appreciating the food that’s quickly brought to their table. It’s decent but pales in comparison to their makeshift meal earlier and Jaskier hopes he’s not imagining the way they share a look over the table that suggests they both feel the same.

“Well, where do we go now?” Jaskier asks once they’re done.

Yennefer sighs. “We’ll just have to hope Triss isn’t busy.”

Jaskier frowns. “Triss? Do I know her?”

“Can’t imagine you would,” Yennefer replies, clearly not intending to provide him with an explanation of any kind. 

“Don’t discredit me, darling, I know plenty of people all over the continent!” Jaskier argues.

Yennefer just rolls her eyes. “And unfortunately, I’m one of them.” 

Before he can stop it, Jaskier flinches. It’s not even  _ nearly _ the worst thing they’ve said to one another but he’s becoming increasingly more aware that he was probably only stuck with Yennefer as some sort of revenge on her, making him no less than the curse Geralt had implied he was. 

“We should get going,” Yennefer announces, standing and brushing crumbs that probably aren’t there from her dress. 

Jaskier nods, grateful for any excuse not to question his worth, especially since he’s way too sober for such thoughts yet. “Where are we going?” he asks.

“Temeria,” Yennefer tells him, “I’ve been before so I can portal us there.”

With a groan, Jaskier follows her out of the inn. “You couldn’t have warned me of how you planned to travel  _ before _ we ate?” 

Yennefer looks a little guilty but neither of them can prevent Jaskier’s stomach from attempting to twist itself inside out as they step through Yennefer’s portal. As it is, the first thing Jaskier does after setting foot in Temeria is fall to his knees, gagging but mercifully keeping his meal  _ inside _ his body.

“Thanks,” he mutters once his knees feel solid once again and he can pull himself upright. 

“Pleasure,” Yennefer replies absently, though she seems far more concerned with looking around to check where they are, visibly relaxing when she spots their destination and starts to walk.

Jaskier curses under his breath but follows, his fingers gripping the strap of his lute hard enough to ache.  Yennefer doesn’t bother knocking on the door to what smells like an apothecary shop when they reach it. Unfortunately , she forgets that mages usually have wards against strangers on the places they dwell in, meaning that although  _ she _ can get through easily enough, Jaskier crashes into an invisible barrier and ends up thrown backwards, sprawled on the ground. 

“Yennefer!” someone exclaims.

Jaskier’s too busy groaning to notice who, though. He forgets how to think until he’s being manoeuvred inside and pressed to Yennefer’s side, both of them exhaling slowly as they recover. 

“Sorry,” Yennefer mumbles with far less reluctance than before.

“Hardly felt a thing,” Jaskier breathes, letting himself flop backwards so he’s lying entirely on the floor, at which point he notices the other woman frowning down at the two of them and waves a hand, grinning. “Hello! You have such gorgeous hair, would you allow me to write it into song?”

The other woman - Triss, judging by how relaxed Yennefer is - laughs softly. “Was that your attempt at flirting?”

Yennefer snorts as she rises to her feet. “You got the best of it, he’s usually far worse.”

Jaskier shrugs. “There are  _ plenty _ of people who would disagree with you there.” 

“What are you doing here, Yennefer?” Triss asks, seemingly unfazed by Jaskier keeping his spot on the floor.

Yennefer sighs. “The bard got us stuck with each other and the mage who did it knows how to cover her tracks so I was hoping you’d help me break whatever the curse is.”

It’s possibly the most straightforward thing Yennefer has said in all the time that Jaskier has known her and he can’t help his mouth falling open; It seems he’d somehow even more severely underestimated how much she hates their predicament. 

Triss seems equally as shocked because she glances between the two of them  _ thrice _ before nodding slowly. “I’ll see what I can do to help. I assume you’ve already tried?”

“Within seconds,” Yennefer confirms. 

Finally sitting up, Jaskier rubs the back of his head. “So am I to merely loiter in the background until you magically figure things out or…?”

“I suppose you could write that song,” Triss says, barely holding in her laugh. 

Jaskier narrows his eyes at her, but there’s no real animosity in it. “I certainly will, thank you very much.”

Yennefer rolls her eyes at him, which he’s beginning to think is just her instinctive response to him opening his mouth at this point. “Just don’t think so loud this time. “

“Stay out of my head, then!” Jaskier retorts, then stands up so he feels less like he’s about to be stepped on or something. It’s not exactly as though he’s unfamiliar with being around powerful people but two mages who seem incapable of taking him seriously is a little much for the moment. 

“I have a room the two of you can stay in while you’re here,” Triss interjects, clearly amused, and although Yennefer looks as if she wants to reject the offer, she nods. 

Jaskier beams at her. “Your kindness is just as plentiful as your beauty, it seems!”

He doesn’t miss the way Yennefer and Triss share an undecipherable look but he pointedly ignores it, keeping his attention on his lute as he tries to think of suitable rhymes for  _ curls _ and  _ mage _ and  _ forest _ so he can prove his point. He just hopes he can sing it as a song of gratitude and celebration rather than one of bittersweet appreciation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> adding to this chapter's chaos, it might amuse y'all to know i initially wrote in trissefer out of habit even tho the plot is literally just yennskier *sighs*


End file.
